


Word of Mouth

by Darth_Nonie



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-29
Updated: 2007-04-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Nonie/pseuds/Darth_Nonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's got a question. Dick has some answers.</p><p>NOTE: Their brief comments about Bruce apply ONLY to this storyverse and are not my general opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word of Mouth

Tim tucked the towel securely around his waist and wandered out to the apartment's small kitchen. "Thanks for the shower."

Dick swallowed his last bite of bagel. "Any time, kid. Thanks for helping me pull those joyriding kids out of the bay."

Tim rolled his eyes at the memory and retrieved his hair gel.

Dick's snort was audible. "Oh, you've **got** to be kidding me, little brother. You actually keep product in your BirdBelt?"

"Part of the uniform," Tim said briefly, and turned away.

"Hold it," said Dick, and Tim heard the scrape of his chair. "Okay, kid, what is it?"

"What? The chemical formula or the brand name?"

Dick's arm snaked across to block the door. "Not the gel, stupid. Your question."

Tim blinked. "What question?"

"That's what I'm asking."

 _Don't react._ "Is this some kind of 'Who's on First' routine, or a knock-knock joke? I don't get it."

Before he could duck under Dick's arm, the man filled the rest of the doorway. "I'm asking what question you've been wanting to ask **me** for, oh, about two weeks now."

"Oh."

Dick leaned back against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. "Last Tuesday, when I was removing those stitches from your back, you started to ask me something, and then you stopped. I could feel you tighten up. And you haven't really relaxed around me since. So, what was it?"

Tim made himself laugh with faint surprise. "Nothing, really. I just realized I wasn't in the mood for being ragged on."

Dick tilted his head back against the wood, and walked his feet up the other side of the doorway until he was sitting, comfortably wedged, well above the floor. "And if I didn't rag on you, kid? --Tim? I mean, I know I'm old and decrepit, but I do remember there are topics that deserve to be taken seriously."

This time Tim's laugh was easier. "Oh, it's nothing much."

"Yeah?"

" I just wondered if the jokes ever bothered you. You know; about you and Batman."

"The sex jokes, you mean? No, not really. Are they getting to you?"

"Of course not. I mean-- No."

Dick folded his arms behind his head, still suspended. "Yeah?"

"I guess when I was younger, it only bothered me that people might think it was true. About any of us. These days...." _Don't blush, damn it._

Dick nodded. "You're old enough now to imagine it, yes? You get these images in your brain, like somebody's flashing sleazy pictures at you, and they won't go away."

"Yes. Exactly." _Sometimes,_ Tim thought, _Dick reminds you that he's got a brain._

"So," said Dick, looking up at the lintel to give Tim some visual privacy, "There's several ways that can go. Does the whole concept of male/male sex gross you out?"

Tim blinked. "What? No, that's a phobia I never understood. It's just--I don't know--too personal an image. An invasion of mental privacy? I don't **want** to imagine any of us having cheap porno moments together."

Dick nodded again. "But you can't get it out of your head."

"Yeah."

"Okay, so let's look at that. First, if you really hate the thoughts, just make them silly. Next time you flash on, say, Bruce groping you in the shower, give him a clown nose, duck feet, and a 'Monster Trucks Rule!' tattoo, and have him yodel his way through 'You Are My Sunshine.' Pretty soon the whole idea will make you laugh instead of wince, and it'll all fade away.

"But," and Dick suddenly reversed himself in place to hang upside-down without losing his position in the doorway, "If you're just curious about the idea, or maybe even attracted, don't worry about the cheesiness factor. If you've been with girls--and I'm not asking--you know that the real thing isn't anything like the bad pornos. It's deeply personal, and shared, and all that. And even if you were too shallow to care about your partner, which you're not, you'd still be caught up in the sensation."

"Hmm."

"So the real question is whether you're attracted to other guys, maybe even a particular guy, and if so, what you want to do about it." He stopped suddenly. "--Not Bruce, I hope? Because that would really fuck you up. Both of you."

Tim snorted. "God, no. I'm not suicidal, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going there."

"Good." Dick dropped into a handspring and got back to his feet. "Loving a man is like loving a woman; some of them are good people, some of them are bad people, and most of them are just the wrong people for you personally. Roy and I really weren't--"

Tim realized he was gaping. "You've tried it?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I guess I've never seen you as, you know, homosexual."

Dick's grin was contagious. "You do mean bi, I hope? I mean, Barbara? And Kory and her bouncing golden...skills; you remember her? Stop worrying about labels. You can be curious about a man, or men in general, without it changing anything else about who you are. And even if you marry Jimmy Olsen and live happily ever after, you aren't actually required by law to join the Purple Poodles Synchronized Swishing Team."

"Yeah, but--"

"Bodies are just bodies. Here, let me show you."

And Tim didn't know whether to faint or just slam his forehead into the kitchen counter until he passed out, because Dick was pulling his tee-shirt off over his head and unzipping his jeans.

Not that Tim hadn't seen Dick's body before, in the showers and the med lab. He could have drawn every one of Nightwing's scars from memory. But he'd never been invited to ogle him before.

He was glad he'd tucked the towel in firmly, but even all Batman's lessons in facial control couldn't keep him from blushing.

The first--the first time that Tim had imagined what Robin would look like with his clothes off, Dick had been younger than Tim was now. But the Boy Wonder growed up real good.

Enough. "Okay, Dick, is this an art-appreciation class? I could go on about neoclassical forms and the subtle brushstrokes of taupe and umber, if you like. Or do you prefer ze Franch ac-cent, premier cru aged in the oak with its elements of blackberry and heather? No, wait. You've always wanted to be in those trashy stories, all 'young god' and 'throbbing member.' I knew it."

Dick threw his jeans at him, grinning. Tim ducked. 

And changed his mind, catching them out of the air and holding them to his cheek with an exaggerated dreamy look.

They were still warm.

He was... not moving. _Open your eyes, dammit!_

Dick was still there. Very much so. "Well, Tim, if you prefer, we can treat this as a health class." He gestured in demonstration. "Item 1: The Penis."

Half-hard, complete with foreskin. Tim wondered what that felt like.

"Item 2: The Erection." Dick fisted his cock lazily, until it stood up in a strong curve that reminded Tim of Nightwing's soaring jumps. The room definitely needed more air.

"And just for reference, see also Figures 3, 4, and 5: The Testes, the Buttocks (with Rectal Opening), and the Mouth, Masculine. The astute student will already have noticed the differences between the Male and Female Mammary Development."

Tim threw the jeans back at him. His aim was shaky.

"So, little brother; grossed out yet?"

Tim made his eyes big, which wasn't difficult. "Yes, sir. Please, sir; might I have permission to go upchuck in the lavatory, sir?"

"Denied, Drake. I just cleaned it."

Dick thumbed the head of his cock, and offered his hand to Tim. "Here. Just smell this. Tell me if it seems wrong to you, and I'll stop."

_You've practiced with Dick before, and he never let you fall._

Tim felt stupid when his hand shook on Dick's wrist, but he didn't let go. _Data. This is just data. Analyze it._

It was a clean, masculine scent; like his own, but richer. It smelled like Dick. _And if that isn't a joke..._

There was a trace of wetness on his thumb, and Tim looked down involuntarily to see a drop of pre-come seeping from the slit.

"That's right," said Nightwing easily. "Touch me; you can always stop if it feels wrong."

And Tim wasn't going to, and then he did. One quick brush against that soft, soft skin, with the muscle hard beneath it, and then he pulled his hand back..

His own fingers smelled like Dick now. It--it was evidence. Yes. And--good.

He reached out again, and circled Dick's cock gently with thumb and finger. Nightwing's shiver made him jump, but he didn't let go.

"Yes," Nightwing said.

It felt, it smelled--the smell drew him, and he wanted to take it all in, but he was too far away.

His curious hands reached out to brush over Dick's hips, run his palms over the curves behind them, slide down the long muscles of his thighs.

And somehow Tim was on his knees, the towel coming loose at last, and he could burrow his nose up into Nightwing's thigh, his sac, and get a deep breath of that smell. God, this was like a drug. It-- He--

He had to taste it. Had to. This dark musk, this essence of Dick.

He nuzzled in. Coarse, springy hair in his mouth, and skin against his lips too soft to believe, and the pulse of the shaft's veins on his tongue.

He slid his hand over the foreskin to feel it draw back, and then he could take the trembling drop in his mouth and taste it at last.

And felt Dick's muscles lock for a moment, and then there was more to taste, to lick helplessly as another drop seeped out of the slit, and another. How could he not have known Dick would taste like this? It was so good.

He had to feel that soft foreskin under his lips, and weigh Dick's testes through the sac in his palm, and then Dick's small helpless noise was even more addictive than the taste. He tried them both again to be sure.

Part of him wanted to get drunk on it all, forget what was really happening, but he recognized the old knife-scar on Nightwing's thigh, the track of the bullet that had grazed his pelvis, and he knew absolutely that this was Dick he was tasting, Dick he was making shake and cry out. And he wanted to eat Dick alive, wanted to take him into his mouth and know him completely. And his mouth was so empty.

So he filled it.

He'd only imagined someone doing this to him; he'd never felt the real thing. But he knew he had to have more, and that he needed to keep his teeth covered, and when he ran out of mouth his throat was still empty, and there was still so much to feel, to taste.

For a second he gagged, and this time Dick's hands came out involuntarily to cup his head. _My God, he wants this. I'm really making Dick want this._

And the gag reflex was just another thing Batman had trained him to overcome for the Mission, and that was a good thing, because he needed more of this. 

When his lips actually reached the base of the shaft, he still needed more, so he pulled back to feel it all again.

And he was doing this, really doing this, and Dick--

Dick's hands were still trying to be gentle, and really, that just wasn't fair.

Tim wanted it all.

So he stalked Dick's reaction greedily, hunting with hands and tongue for another shudder, another cry, the glorious moment when those hands tightened helplessly in his hair and he knew he had him.

Dick was shaking, almost fighting it, and that was sweet and wrong, so Tim tried to fit his tongue into the little wet slit that tasted so good, and then swallowed his way back down the shaft, and let himself graze it with his teeth as he came back up.

And Dick gave it up and yelled as he filled Tim's mouth with so much wetness that he couldn't hold it all, and he felt it spill down his chin.

Dick shook, pulsing, and slid bonelessly down the doorframe to sprawl on the floor. Tim stalked after him to taste it, taste it all, until Dick's hands clutched at him to stop.

Then Tim rested his head against Dick's taut stomach and listened to his heart beat, his shaking breath settling. This was triumph, a terrifying new freedom.

And when Dick recovered, it would be his turn.

\---END---

**Author's Note:**

> I repeat: Their brief comments about Bruce apply ONLY to this storyverse and are not my general opinion.
> 
> NIghtwing's wedging himself upward between the sides of the doorway is an old climbing technique called "chimneying." In my pre-teen days, I used to do this in our kitchen doorway while talking to Mom. (But not the upside-down version; I don't have Dick's strength or flexibility.)
> 
> Oh, and Dick's advice for getting rid of disturbing thoughts by making them silly? That's what I did with nightmares, and my younger sister says it worked for her too.


End file.
